Further Down the
Rabbit Hole

The world we know is an illusion, an elaborate fantasy imposed by
others. In this world, we labor under the delusion of free will, while
actually in the thrall of a mechanical culture that seeks to keep us
submerged, unaware, in a collective dream state. This world is the world
of The Matrix -- or more precisely, the universe of hype and
anticipation that surrounds the movie franchise of the same name.

It's been impossible to avoid that hype lately, as anticipation for
The Matrix's two sequels has risen to the level of tense expectancy
reserved for religious zealots days away from the Rapture, when they hope
to smugly realize the fruits of a lifetime of bullying piety. And with the
release -- finally, in the words of its patient disciples -- of the
first sequel, The Matrix Reloaded, it's become evident that not
even the film itself is immune to the ever-building hype generated by its
predecessor. The Matrix Reloaded doesn't live up to its hype so
much as it struggles to perpetuate that hype.

Which is not to say that Reloaded doesn't sufficiently continue
the story of The Matrix -- it does -- or that its ideas are lacking.
Like the original Matrix, an ambitious fin de siècle parable
about free will cloaked (or rather jacketed, in sleek black leather) in a
decidedly 21st-century take on the same theme of man-vs.-machine that has
powered the artificial heart of science fiction from H.G. Wells to The
Terminator, Reloaded is a cautionary tale (both intentionally
and otherwise) about being too quick to believe what we're told. Neo
(Reeves, whose steely stoicism has never found a better onscreen outlet),
the hacker-turned-superhero protagonist of the first film, has evolved, as
Reloaded opens, from a cautious, doubt-filled everyman into a
warrior of seemingly limitless, even godlike power. In the film's many
bravura action sequences, Neo moves with the calm confidence of a graceful
dancer (that this self-assuredness robs those sequences of any sense of
mortal stakes doesn't seem to have occurred to anyone involved in making
the film). But if he's an unstoppable superhuman inside the world of the
Matrix (in one scene, rebel human Link, played by
Oz's Harold Perrineau,
rightfully observes that Neo is off "doing his Superman thing"), outside
of it, in the real world, he's an unsure of himself, and his place in the
order of things, as ever. "I just wish I knew what to do," he says early
on.

That's a hard place to be, especially given the unwavering (and frankly
monotonous) faith placed in Neo by his mentor Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne).
Morpheus still believes Neo to be "the One," a champion whose coming is
prophesied by the Oracle (the late Gloria Foster) and who, Morpheus
believes, will deliver the fugitive race of Mankind from the tyranny of
the machines that rule the world, keeping most humans locked in the
fantasy grid of the Matrix. Morpheus isn't the only one: Upon returning to
the subterranean human city of Zion from a mission aboard Morpheus' ship,
the Nebuchadnezzar, Neo is confronted by a mob of hopeful humans who bow
in supplication, asking him to look over their loved ones and leaving
offerings of food and goods. Neo's uneasiness with all of this
responsibility is evident in his love for Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss): His
palpable need for her (as seen in a shivery, sweat-drenched sex scene
juxtaposed with scenes of Zion's masses dancing in a tribal-drum-driven
orgy of defiance) gives him, as Brett Michaels once sang, something to
believe in. Unluckily for Neo, he's plagued by the memory of a lifelike
dream in which Trinity does a slo-mo dive off of this mortal coil.

If Neo harbors doubts about himself, he's not the only one. In a
surprising and welcome twist, not everyone in Zion subscribes to Morpheus'
rather rigid beliefs; in fact, he's looked upon by some as slightly crazy,
including his rival Lock (Harry J. Lennix), whose military leadership of
Zion's defenses is threatened by Morpheus' borderline zealotry. The
thematic contrast between the two characters -- right down to their
all-too-descriptive names -- is nicely made flesh in the form of fellow
ship captain Niobi (Jada Pinkett-Smith, with not enough to do), whose
subtle but apparent warmth for her ex-lover Morpheus troubles current
paramour Lock.

Morpheus, who served in the first film as a beacon of light and reality
in the darkness of the Matrix, here appears all too human in his blind
adherence to the word of the Oracle, and thus it's Neo's self-doubt, and
by extension his willingness to question the Oracle, that seems the breath
of fresh air. Having figured out that the Oracle is herself a program from
the machine world, Neo asks how he can trust her. Given no concrete
answer, he operates on faith, albeit of the wary variety, as opposed to
the unwavering kind favored by Morpheus. (Is this, perhaps, the source of
his incredible power inside the Matrix? Morpheus and Trinity can kick ass
inside the Matrix, we're given to assume, because of their will; their
knowledge of the unreality of their surroundings gives them a
corresponding strength. Do Neo's doubts -- further proof of his free will
-- correspondingly increase his powers, just as doubt is supposed to be a
key component of faith?)

At the Oracle's suggestion, Neo sets off to find another rogue program
named the Merovingian (Lambert Wilson), an insufferable French-speaking
snob who holds captive the conveniently named Keymaker (Randall Duk Kim),
who has the power to help Neo and crew open various doors within the
Matrix and thus access "the Source," which will presumably allow the
humans to turn off the Matrix and free humankind. The Merovingian,
however, isn't interested in giving up his prize, instead preferring to
offer brief bits of French-accented Matrixianity: "Choice is an illusion,"
he sneers. It's the Merovingian's impossibly beautiful wife Persephone
(the achingly beautiful Monica Bellucci) who helps the humans out in
return for a kiss from Neo, to remind her of the affections she once
enjoyed from her philandering husband.

Soon the humans, Keymaker in tow, are off, pursued by the Twins, a pair
of pallid henchmen with the ability to go all non-corporeal and pass
through solid objects. (Turns out the Twins are ghosts, and that such
supernatural phenomena -- angels, vampires, aliens, etc., -- are
explanations the Matrix contrives for rogue programs and other things not
easily explainable to the human minds it must keep in its thrall.)
Eventually, the Keymaker does his duty, and Neo comes face to face with
the Architect, who imparts some surprising revelations about the Matrix,
and Neo's place in it. To say any more is to spoil the one of the film's
meatiest surprises, but suffice it to say that the Oracle's prophecy isn't
all it's cracked up to be, and neither is Neo's supposed freedom from the
Matrix's insidious system of control.

It's when Reloaded expands the perimeters established in the
first film that it works best, whether that entails tweaking what we think
we know about the world of the Matrix or showing us more of the world
outside of it. The scenes set in Zion, its look, the appearance and dress
of its peoples, the political machinations -- all of this broadens the
comparatively claustrophobic world of The Matrix, just as the
revelation of the existence of another world outside the Matrix did in the
original.

But there are times when Reloaded fleshes out its tableau, and
times when it sabotages that work by means of a numbing over-reliance on
plot -- and worse, on the explanation of said plot through clunky
expositional dialogue. Such scenes work just fine in B-movies, but the
portentous A-to-B-to-C speeches given by the Oracle, the Keymaker and the
Architect can't help but detract from a film so notable partly for its
freedom from such limitations.

This plot-heavy nature does have its merits, however, as it allows for
what are arguably some of the most awe-inspiring action sequences ever
committed to film. The "burly brawl" in which Neo squares off against an
ever-replicating horde of Agent Smiths (Hugo Weaving) is a fist-pumping
spectacle, even as it raises thorny questions about Smith's purpose: he's
now something of a "rogue" program himself, one with as-yet-unexplained
ties to Neo, and this his intentions are somewhat murky -- since he's now
disconnected from the Matrix, whose agenda does he pursue? This somewhat
reduces the level of the menace he poses: It's as if Darth Vader, in
The Empire Strikes Back, no longer served the Empire and instead
pursued Luke Skywalker in hopes of answering existential questions about
himself. (That one can all too often spot moments where Reeves is replaced
by a CGI doesn't help this scene much.)

Likewise, a protracted freeway chase, staged on a 12-mile highway set
constructed solely for the film, proves Reloaded's roller-coaster
centerpiece, with a motorcycle-riding Trinity weaving in and out of
onrushing cars, Morpheus kicking butt atop a barreling semi, and more car
chases and explosions than a Blues Brothers/Lethal Weapon/Die
Hard retrospective. At the same time, however, the constant spectacle
becomes a bit numbing. Whereas the much-heralded effects of the first film
-- notably the revolutionary "bullet time" effect of capturing fight
scenes in a revolving slow-motion merry-go-round -- served a purpose (the
humans' ability to kick butt in the Matrix illustrating the empowering
effect of their freedom from it), here they're little more than
blockbuster-action-film spectacle for its own sake. Their eye-popping
wonder exists in a world of its own, a separate world that dictates that
Matrix films up the CGI ante because, well, because they're the
Matrix films.

If these moments hobble Reloaded, they don't cripple it
outright. Its action and its metaphysics don't blend quite as seamlessly
as in its predecessor, but its visceral thrills, even in their overload,
far surpass those of The Matrix. Still, its obvious eagerness to
please is distracting, and moviegoers' enjoyment of the film will hinge
upon whether they can overlook -- or will care -- whether its scales are
weighted a bit too much in favor of spectacle over the non-action elements
that made The Matrix more than just a nifty action film -- that
made the franchise, in pop-cultural terms, a Star Wars saga for the
21st century. As it is, it's exactly like a roller-coaster ride: immensely
thrilling, but a difficult experience to recapture once you've left the
theater.